


Can't Watch You Die

by OwlsWithFins



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), BAMF Morgana (Merlin), Blood, Dragonlord Merlin (Merlin), Enemies to Begrudging Temporary Allies, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Merlin (TV) Season/Series 05, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), emrys reveal, magic restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26937475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlsWithFins/pseuds/OwlsWithFins
Summary: Merlin's magic flared up inside him, and the metal sizzled hot. “What are they doing, branding us?”Morgana wasn’t wearing a collar, but her handcuffs glowed orange a few seconds after Merlin’s cooled, and her jaw clenched against the torment. Still, she kept her eyes on him. Vigilant.“They’re magic siphoning cuffs,” she said when it was over. Her lip quivered as though she was suffering a kind of aftershock, but then her composure returned. She lifted a brow, shooting him a sinister look. “I see they’ve done a number on you, Emrys."Merlin’s stomach dropped. Morgana knew.
Relationships: Merlin & Morgana (Merlin)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 356





	Can't Watch You Die

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! This fic was written for @sparklingtears6 on Tumblr based on the prompt "resting head on shoulder" + "I thought you hated me." I usually try to keep requests at around 1-2k, but this one sort of ran away with me, so...hope you like it!

Merlin’s head was pounding when he awoke, and the internal cacophony escaped his lips in a tortured groan. A torrent of magic roiled in his stomach and then seized up like it had turned to stone in his gut, his wrists and neck flaring hot with pain. When the heat faded, he let out a sigh of relief. The effect was short-lived, however, because the temperature kept dropping until his restraints were ice cold, to the point where they burned almost as much as the heat. The effort it took to peel his eyes open nearly caused him to black out again.

His vision blurred, shifting in and out of focus until his eyes locked on a gaunt form in the opposite corner. Opposite corner of his...cell? Cave? Thin cracks in the ceiling admitted just enough sunlight to illuminate his cell-mate.

“Morgana,” he rasped, vocal cords protesting as much as his magic. “I take it this is your doing?” 

Morgana lifted shackled wrists, chin raised haughtily despite her entrapment. “Guess again.”

Merlin wanted to tug at what must have been a collar on his neck, but that would mean letting his handcuffs slide against his burned skin, and the mere thought was agony. Before he could consider his next move, his magic flared up again inside him, the metal sizzling hot. “What are they doing, branding us?” he choked out. 

Morgana eyed him up and down, and Merlin took the opportunity to do the same--anything to distract from the pain. Her eyes were sunken, the hollows of her cheeks dark as if dusted with charcoal. The bones in her wrists looked thin enough to snap, and the skin around them was red and raw from the manacles. She wasn’t wearing a collar, but her handcuffs glowed orange a few seconds after Merlin’s cooled, and her jaw clenched against the torment. Still, she kept her eyes on him. Vigilant.

“They’re magic siphoning cuffs,” she said when it was over. Her lip quivered as though she was suffering a kind of aftershock, but then her composure returned. She lifted a brow, shooting him a sinister look. “I see they’ve done a number on you, Emrys.”

Merlin’s stomach dropped, and this time it wasn’t from the churning of his magic. Morgana knew he had magic. She knew he was Emrys. _Oh gods--_

Morgana must have realized he was going to be sick before he did because her chains rattled and then she was holding a bucket for him to heave into. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled weakly, letting his head thunk back against the stone. 

Morgana had retreated into her corner again, back stiff and cuffs pulled close to her chest. “The bucket gets taken out every few days,” she said, as if needing to explain her good deed. “I’d rather not live in your puke for however long we’re stuck here.”

Merlin tried to nod, but his thoughts fizzled out at the mention of ‘every few days,’ wondering how long he had been here--how long Arthur had been without his protection. Then his magic frothed in his throat, the cuffs went hot, and his vision went black.

When Merlin awoke hours later, there was even less light in their cell than before. Only a dim glow like torchlight shone through the infinitesimal space between the door and frame. It must have been night, then, with guards outside keeping watch. Although Merlin was still woozy from the emptiness of his stomach and the pain he felt all over, his magic stayed tamped inside his chest, repressed but not being sucked out of him. He wondered if whoever was keeping them here only drew upon their magic in the daytime.

When Merlin refocused his gaze, he saw that Morgana was seated in the corner now instead of standing, her black dress pooling around her like she was drowning in ink. Her bloodshot eyes were trained on him, and Merlin got the feeling she had been watching him for a long time.

His mouth tasted horrible, but he was pretty sure it was from dread rather than puke. “So,” he said. “You know.” 

Merlin thought about the torture Gaius had sustained to keep Morgana from knowing the truth, the loyalty Alator had shown, Kilgharrah’s warnings that Merlin heeded all those years ago, now made worthless. If Morgana was always going to find out about his magic, couldn’t she have found out in a better way? When she was still his friend? When there was still some good left in her? Even as he had that thought, he couldn’t squash the hope that maybe it wasn’t too late. That maybe they didn’t have to die as enemies.

“I thought about strangling you in your sleep," Morgana said. She snapped out the words, but there was a weariness to them that made her sound petulant rather than threatening.

“But?”

Her eyes bore into him, lips pressed tightly together. After several seconds, she looked away. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

Merlin huffed out a bitter laugh. “No, you don’t.” He remembered her trembling lip when she came to him in Gaius’ chambers, terrified of her own magic. He remembered his silence. Perhaps it wouldn’t have changed anything if he had told her, but Merlin had never stopped feeling guilty over his inaction. “I’ve certainly kept my fair share of secrets.”

Morgana snorted. In spite of everything, the sound almost brought a smile to Merlin’s lips. But then a wave of nausea coursed through him, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to keep from retching again. It seemed his magic didn't like being trapped.

There was a rapping sound at the door followed by a tray sliding though the slot at its base. Broth sloshed over the lips of the bowls, spilling half of their contents on the tray. Morgana leaned against the wall to help herself stand, trailing her hands along the rough surface for support as she made her way over to the food. When she reached the tray, she took her bowl and made her way back to the corner.

Merlin didn’t make to grab his own bowl. He could barely manage to stay awake without his stomach rebelling, so food was out of the question.

Morgana sipped the broth slowly, and her distaste was clear on her features. They hadn’t given them any spoons--probably so they didn’t scoop each other’s eyeballs out or something. If that was the case, they had clearly forgotten to consider how long Morgana’s nails had gotten. Merlin hoped whatever reason she had for not strangling him was enough to protect his sight organs as well.

“What do you know about the people trapping us here?” he asked. 

Morgana finished her bowl on her own terms, not bothering to speed up or pause to answer Merlin’s question. When she finished, she set it aside with a rattle and wiped at her lips. Merlin felt a strange sense of dissonance as his mind layered the memory of her perfect manners at royal feasts over the sight before him.

“They’re well-funded and well-educated,” she said. “Magic siphoning metals are hard to come by and even harder to use properly.”

“So a king or queen most likely,” Merlin guessed, “paired with a skilled sorcerer.”

“Not overly powerful though, or they wouldn’t need our magic,” Morgana added.

Merlin ran through the possible suspects in his head. Cenred would have done this in his day, but Morgause had killed him, and Merlin knew very little about King Lot. Alined was a possibility since Trickler had proven he wasn’t below hiring sorcerers to do his dirty work. Since the peace treaty, however, Alined’s kingdom had been quickly losing gold. If he was responsible, then he was probably allied with someone else. 

Merlin said as much, and Morgana tilted her head. “Arthur has no idea, does he?” 

“About my magic?” Merlin asked, voice breaking on the last word after so much practice keeping it secret. 

“That you’re running his entire kingdom.”

Merlin furrowed his brows. “I'm...what?” 

“That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?” She looked excited, like she had cracked a difficult riddle. “Working from the shadows, learning kingdom secrets, and playing the fool so you can use Camelot’s king as a puppet?”

Merlin felt a bone deep sorrow at her words. “Morgana...”

“We could be allies, Merlin,” she pressed. “Bring back magic together and free our people. Emrys and the last High Priestess working together...We’d be unstoppable.”

“Morgana, I’m not--” Merlin’s magic grew agitated at the mere thought. “ _\--controlling_ Arthur. He’s my friend and my king.” He shook his head fervently, trying to jolt the sickening idea free, to get it out of his brain forever so his magic would stop churning like that. “You might have given up on him, but I haven’t.”

Morgana’s features sharpened, the light in her eyes turning to ice. “You would sit by and watch our people die?”

“And you would kill innocents to claim the throne,” Merlin said back, more tired than he could ever remember being before. “Face it, Morgana. We’ve both done terrible things, and we’ll keep doing them until we’re dead in the ground or magic is free. You’ve chosen your path, and I’ve chosen mine.” Merlin’s lips twitched into a rueful smile. “It’s just our luck that both of them have led us here.”

Morgana was silent for a long while. Then her chains rattled. Merlin watched as she made her way over to the tray again, picking up the second bowl and bringing it to him. “You need to eat,” she said, touching the rim to his lips. 

Merlin turned his head aside. “I’m not hungry.”

“If you don’t keep up your strength, you’ll die.” When Merlin shook his head, she sighed. “I’ve done my research, Emrys. Without your magic, you don’t even exist. Given the amount they’re draining each day, you’ll be dead within the week. Eat.”

Merlin scowled at the broth, the knots in his stomach protesting at the smell. Bracing himself for the possibility of needing the bucket again, he nodded imperceptibly. Morgana tipped the broth into his mouth. Suddenly his appetite revealed itself, and he swallowed mouthful after mouthful, whining softly when it was gone. Morgana smirked at that, but he didn’t have the energy to glare in return. Instead, he slumped further against the wall and studied her. 

“I thought you hated me,” he said. “What do you care if I die?”

“Maybe I want the pleasure of killing you myself,” Morgana said stridently, the bowl clattering to the ground as she recoiled from him. 

Merlin looked at her through lidded eyes, exhaustion still battering his skull like Arthur’s blunt sword during knights’ training. “Or maybe,” he said evenly, “for all our enmity you still can’t watch me die.”

Morgana scoffed, but instead of denying it as Merlin expected, she said, “We were friends once. It’s only a pity you can’t say the same.”

Merlin’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. Maybe it wasn’t too late for her. Maybe there was still hope. “Poisoning you was the hardest thing I ever did,” he said, voice quiet but firm. 

Morgana glared daggers at the ground, jaw tight enough to grind bones. “Don’t try to rewrite history, Merlin.”

“I’m not," he said, shaking his head. "You were the source of Morgause’s spell. It was either you or Camelot, and I couldn’t choose one person over a whole kingdom, no matter how much I cared for you.”

She laughed darkly; the sound grated on Merlin’s ears. “You’ve chosen Arthur over your kin,” she retorted. “How is that any different?”

“It just is,” he said automatically. Then he winced. “Arthur is--he's more than a friend. He’s my destiny. He’s the Once and Future King. He’s... _everything.”_ Merlin rubbed at his burned wrists. “And you--” He cut himself off, not wanting to talk about Kilgharrah or the strings of fate that wrapped around them both like a noose.

“And I what?” she demanded. 

_You’re the darkness to my light._ Merlin pressed his lips together. “You were important to me, too.” Making a noise at the back of his throat, he admitted, “Still are.”

The ice in Morgana’s eyes receded for a moment and then recrystallized, harsher than before. “The poison said otherwise.”

“I thought you had turned against us," he told her, knowing it wasn’t enough but that it was the only answer he could give. "I thought it was the only way.” Thinking of Daegal, he added, “And don’t think I’ve forgotten that you tried to return the favor.”

Morgana smiled archly. “It was rather symbolic, wasn’t it?”

Merlin gave a dry laugh. “I suppose.” His amusement quickly petered out, and he sent her his most apologetic look. “For what it’s worth, I couldn’t watch you die either. I gave Morgause the name of the poison so she could make an antidote.” 

Morgana’s lips parted for a moment before she closed them quickly, glancing away. “She didn’t tell me that.”

Merlin shrugged and then regretted it, the movement irritating his blistered neck. “It didn’t change what I did.”

“Perhaps not,” Morgana said. She looked like she wanted to say more, but she didn’t. Pulling her arms close to her chest, she curled up in the corner like an infant huddled in a mother’s embrace. “We should get some sleep--give our magic a chance to recover.”

Merlin nodded, knowing it would be no difficulty persuading his brain to shut off with how wrecked and heavy he felt. Still, he waited for Morgana’s breathing to even out before letting his eyes flutter shut, curious if in sleep she would look more like the woman he remembered from his first year in Camelot. 

She did. 

Merlin wished he hadn’t seen. 

A scream dragged him out of the depths of unconsciousness this time, and Merlin’s eyes shot open. The sound came from Morgana, shivering in the corner. Merlin watched as her eyes flickered from left to right unseeingly. Her chin wobbled, breaths quick and ragged, and her fingernails dug into her palms so hard that blood dripped to the stone floor. 

“Morgana,” he said, trying to snap her out of her trance. 

She didn’t hear him, or if she did, it didn’t help anything. Another strangled cry leaped past her lips, and Merlin’s heart broke at the sound. Despite the objections from both his stomach and his magic, Merlin dragged himself away from the wall and toward Morgana. He hissed as the crawl made his manacles dig into the shredded and burned skin of his wrists, but he kept moving, needing to get to her, needing her to know she wasn’t alone. The way he couldn’t all those years ago when she had come to him for help.

When he reached her side, he took her bound hands in his own. She flinched, glassy eyes darting between his now. 

“...thusa?” she croaked. 

Merlin’s brows furrowed as he tried to make out what she was saying. Then it hit him: Aithusa. Their bond was a sign that Morgana’s good heart wasn’t totally gone. Merlin might have realized that earlier if he hadn’t lost hope. “It’s Merlin,” he said. “Aithusa is far, far away from this place--where they’ll be safe.” He didn’t know if that was true, but he hoped it would help calm her down.

Some of the tension in her shoulders eased, but she was still shaking, and her eyes were unclear. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “It’s dark...so dark...like--like in Sarrum’s cage.”

Merlin stiffened, realizing what she was referring to. Gwen had confided in him after she returned to her normal self, telling him how the Sarrum had kept Morgana locked up in darkness for two years. How had he forgotten? 

He sidled up to her, wanting to wrap his arms around her but unable to given his restraints. Instead, he lifted both hands and gently lowered Morgana’s head onto his shoulder, petting her hair in reassurance. “You’re okay. You’re not alone. Sarrum won’t get you again. Not ever.” Even if Merlin had to kill the man himself.

Morgana slowly relaxed against him, quiet sobs tearing free from her throat. Her fingers curled into his tunic, holding him there as if she was afraid he might disappear. 

“You’re not alone,” he repeated, throat tight at the thought of how much she had suffered--was still suffering. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Morgana had done horrible things--to Gwen, to Gwaine, to the innocent people of Camelot. Merlin knew that. And yet--

He couldn’t help but forgive her, at least in part. Perhaps because she was so clearly afraid. Perhaps because she had been punished enough. Perhaps because if she could be forgiven, then it meant Merlin could too. 

Whatever the reason, Merlin resolved to lessen her suffering however he could, whether that meant here in this cell or if they faced each other on the battlefield. Feeling determined in a way he hadn’t when it came to his own escape, Merlin said, “I’m going to get us out of here. You’ll see.” 

Morgana just cried into his shoulder. Merlin didn’t know how long they sat there together before her sobs evened out into the rhythm of sleep, but it was enough time to come up with a plan. He just had to hope it would work.

When the first magical surge came, Merlin grit his teeth against the pain and nausea and blinked himself awake. Morgana’s came a few seconds later. She whimpered and shuddered against his shoulder in her sleep, and Merlin watched as her handcuffs glowed red hot. 

“Morgana,” he whispered into her hair. 

She went tense, a sign that she was conscious once more. 

Before she could draw away, Merlin murmured, “When the next surge comes, I’m going to pull your handcuffs off.” He had watched Gwen and Elyan in the forge before, and he knew that metal expanded when it got hot. Although the cuffs would be difficult to slip off, they weren’t tight by any means, the maker likely relying on pain to keep the wearer from removing them. “It’ll hurt, but your magic will be free. Do you think you can take out the guards outside?” 

“Depends how many there are,” she said under her breath. “We’d have better luck with two magic users.”

Merlin nodded, equally unexecited about being helpless during their escape. “I agree, but I don’t fancy trying to pull this collar over my head, and getting the manacles off might not be enough to free my magic. Whoever is siphoning our power will figure out yours are off as soon as the next surge comes, so we’d best be on the move before then if we don’t want to face them on our way out--which means we can’t afford to waste any time fiddling with mine. You’re our best chance.”

Morgana slowly lifted her head from his shoulder, and Merlin took her lack of objection as agreement. He shifted so he was facing her, ready to tug on her cuffs as hard as he could. As an afterthought, he reached up at an awkward angle to untie his neckerchief. When he handed it to Morgana, she quirked a brow. 

“To bite down on,” he said with an apologetic grimace. The fabric was dirty and worn, but it would serve its purpose.

Morgana’s eyes flashed with an unreadable emotion, and Merlin was once again hit by the memory of her life before she turned against Camelot--the life of nobility. How far she had fallen. Morgana took the neckerchief and placed it in her mouth, jaw clenching around the fabric as she waited for the next drainage of power.

A minute later, Merlin’s magic fizzled up inside him and his cuffs went hot. It took everything in him not to pass out, but the challenging look in Morgana’s eyes kept him focused, like she was daring him to stay awake. His vision darkened at the edges, but he blinked it away, turning his attention to Morgana’s cuffs.

They turned a molten orange, and the thought of grabbing them with his bare palms was almost enough to make Merlin back down, so he didn’t let himself think. He grabbed the first one and pulled. For a few seconds, he didn't even feel the heat. But then the pain kicked in, searing in its warning for him to let go. Instead, he tugged harder, trying to ignore the tortured sounds Morgana was making into his neckerchief. When it finally came free, Morgana’s eyes were wet with tears, and her hand oozed blood, the flesh burned and torn. 

“Just one more,” Merlin whispered, and she nodded, letting her eyes fall closed. 

The wait felt longer this time, perhaps because Merlin was worried their captor would know figure out that Morgana was breaking free. But then the pain came again, dizzying in its intensity, and Merlin’s teeth cut into his lip. His vision blurred and his breaths were shallow, too shallow. He was...he was... 

Morgana slapped him on the cheek to keep him conscious, and he shook his head roughly to chase the darkness away. When he met her eyes again, there was fierce determination there. Her voice came out in a devastating croak as the metal went hot, and Merlin pulled as hard as he could. He heard Morgana’s wrist pop, or maybe break, but then the cuff was off and she was taking the neckerchief from her mouth to gulp down heaving breaths.

“Ready?” Merlin asked, wanting to give her time but knowing they didn’t have much. 

Morgana used the wall to steady herself as she stood, leaving streaks of blood on the stone. Merlin followed suit. Although spots filled his vision at his new elevation and his legs were weak, he didn’t hurl instantly, so he thought things were going rather well so far. Morgana was quicker than he was, and she waited for him at the door. When he was close enough, she breathed, _“Tospringe,”_ and the latch popped open. 

The guards outside were easily knocked unconscious with a quick _“Ástríce.”_ Morgana grabbed a sword from the one slumped closest to them. “Weapons from Odin’s forge,” she said. Then she kicked the motionless body to roll him over onto his back. “And Alined’s crest.” She handed the sword to Merlin. He blinked at it stupidly. Morgana rolled her eyes and stuck it through his belt, and then she was dragging him down the hall. 

Daylight poured into the tunnel from one side, so they knew which way to walk. When they reached the stairs, Merlin stumbled, cuffs going hot.

“Breathe,” Morgana coached him, bloody hands gripping his shoulders. He nodded, eyes trained somewhere behind her, and did as she said. His chest convulsed at the inflation of his lungs, and Morgana’s fingers dug in deeper. “Stay with me, Merlin,” she said fiercely. “You’re not going to die in here.”

Merlin cracked a weak smile. “No, course not...’m sure whatever death you have planned for me 's...much slower an'...more painful...'is way's too easy.” 

Morgana smiled back, looking a bit like the friend he used to know. “Exactly.” Concern tinted her eyes. “They’ll know by now that I’ve escaped. Can you walk?”

Merlin bit his lip, agitating the cut from before. At his jerky nod, Morgana lifted his manacled arms up and over her head so he could lean against her for support and wrapped an arm around his back. Together, they pushed toward the light. 

When they walked out into the open, Merlin’s eyes became useless for several seconds, but Morgana’s sharp intake of breath hinted that something was very, very wrong. Merlin squinted against the sun.

Eventually, he saw it: a large swath of shadows twisting into a gruesome beast--wolflike with red eyes and teeth like needles. Around its throat was a collar like the one Merlin wore, and each paw was encircled by a cuff to match their manacles. Although it was chained by its collar to an obsidian staff someone had driven into the stone, Merlin doubted that would hold the beast if it decided to attack. 

It hadn’t noticed them yet, so Merlin took the opportunity to survey the rest of their surroundings. The dungeon from which they had emerged was built into the ground at the edge of a circle of stone columns. They were built from the same black stone as the staff, and the nearest one mercifully hid Merlin and Morgana from sight. Runes marked the floor, and pulsating energy sizzled in the air. There were no trees for twenty paces in every direction, but guards were stationed at the edge of the clearing, and the only person not in armor was a spindly man in a shadowy grey cloak. He must have been the sorcerer using Merlin and Morgana’s magic to conjure the beast.

When the next power surge came, Merlin nearly brought Morgana down with him. He forced himself to look up at the beast, watching as it grew in size with the extra boost of magic. A few seconds passed, and then the beast let out a wretched howl and his front paws grew wispy.

“We might get lucky,” Merlin whispered. “It looks like cutting off your source of magic has damaged it.”

“If we were lucky, there wouldn’t be thirty guards and a sorcerer surrounding us,” Morgana hissed back.

“Or we wouldn’t have gotten kidnapped in the first place,” Merlin added. 

“Too bad we’re not lucky then,” Morgana said, and then she lifted a hand. Her eyes flashed gold, and the cloaked sorcerer flew back against a tree. 

The guards charged. 

Morgana ducked out from under Merlin’s arms to better defend them, casting stunning spell after stunning spell plus a fireball here and there. Merlin fumbled for the sword at his belt, but even with it in his hands, he was fairly useless. He couldn’t handle a sword on a good day, and currently, his hands were chained together and his magic was leaving his body in sickening waves. Still, he managed to keep one guard at bay, defending Morgana’s back while she took out the others.

During a moment’s lull in which the stunned guards were busy dragging themselves to their feet, Merlin caught sight of the beast again. There was a clattering sound as the front cuffs dropped to the stone, and then it was rising onto its feet so it was merely two hind legs and a gaping maw of glistening, deadly teeth. It thrashed against its chains, gnashing its teeth at Merlin and Morgana. 

Apparently Morgana was watching too because she was a second too late to stop an approaching guard, and he got in a slice across her arm. Morgana cried out a spell, flinging the man away. Merlin was quickly drawn into another unbalanced battle, and he realized even if they managed to keep the guards from killing them, the beast was going to keep chasing them as long as it could siphon his magic. 

“Morgana,” Merlin called out. “You need to kill me!” 

“What?” she shrieked, blasting another two guards with a fireball. 

Merlin managed to trip the guard he was battling with his foot, but another was right behind him. “If you kill me--” He blocked a hit, the sound of metal ringing in his ears. “--the beast won’t be able to draw any more power, and you can escape.”

“We’ve been over this, Merlin.” There was a sound of swords clashing from her direction, and Merlin guessed Morgana must have picked up a sword to fight in closer quarters. “I’m not letting you die here.”

The man Merlin was fighting was unskilled but massive, so Merlin swung out at him as quickly as he could, knowing speed would be his only advantage. “It’s the only way,” he argued. He considered just dropping his sword and letting the guard kill him. But then again, none of the attacks the guards had launched so far had been anywhere near fatal. Which meant they didn’t want him dead. They wanted him drained. They wanted his magic. When Merlin darted in for another jab, the guard stepped back, tripping over the body on the ground and cracking his skull against a stone column.

 _“Gods,_ shut up!” Morgana yelled, and the pure magic that radiated from her caused several guards to go flying back. “Stop trying to die, you insufferable fool.” She let out another burst of magic, her anger fueling a new wave of energy. “I can’t believe you’ve survived this long,” she spat. “So many plots foiled. So many assassination attempts thwarted.” A manic laugh escaped her lips. “If I had known you were so keen to die, I might have just asked nicely!”

Morgana was taking care of the brunt of the attackers in her indignant rage, so when the next power surge hit, Merlin allowed himself to drop to his knees, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain and dizziness. Unlike the times before, a sort of emptiness germinated in his chest when the collar and cuffs cooled. The beast had drained too much of his magic too quickly, likely making up for the loss of Morgana’s. In the absence of his magic, Merlin felt something niggling at his ribcage. It was familiar, but Merlin had never been without his magic in order to separate this particular feeling from the usual power that lived within him. 

What was it? A memory flickered in his mind, trying to take root but having difficulty given the fogginess of Merlin’s magic-less brain. It had something to do with...Gaius? Yes! Gaius had said something...

_“Uther believed...too close to magic...rounded up and slaughtered...”_

Merlin remembered. 

He dug deep down inside, focusing on that niggling sense until he could foster it, grow it, fill his chest with it so that the absence of his magic could barely be felt at all. Then he bellowed, _“O drakon, fthengomai au se kalon su katerkheo deuro!"_

When Merlin stood, he wasn’t as woozy as before, his dragonlord gift filling the void his magic left behind. He lifted his sword and swung at the nearest attacker. 

They were starting to turn the tide, but they had forgotten about the sorcerer. A heart-stopping snap sounded across the clearing, and everyone paused to look toward the beast. The sorcerer had severed the staff chaining the beast to the ground and was now chanting instructions. Merlin couldn’t make out the words from so far away, but he could see the way the beast eyed them, and he didn’t think he needed any more details. 

The one upside was that the guards were just as frightened of the thing as Merlin was, and they scattered, leaving Merlin and Morgana alone at the edge of the stone circle. The two of them faced the creature side by side, each wielding a sword that looked distinctly unthreatening in relation to the beast before them. 

_Any minute now, Kilgharrah,_ Merlin thought, wondering if the dragon would be too late.

The beast charged. 

Morgana sent a blast of power its way.

And then fire rained down.

The creature recoiled from the flames, unharmed but uncertain, and Kilgharrah took the opportunity to land on the stone ground. 

“Young warlock,” Kilgharrah greeted. 

Merlin nodded to him, a shaky but relieved smile breaking out on his face. “I know you’re not a horse, but...”

“Just this once,” the dragon said. His yellow eyes narrowed on Morgana, but besides letting a sulphuric puff escape his nostrils, he made no objections.

Merlin turned to Morgana. She was appraising Kilgharrah like she was wondering how she might coerce him into joining her crusade against Camelot. There was a chance Merlin was just paranoid. “Climb on,” he said, hoisting himself onto one of Kilgharrah’s ridges. It was difficult with his hands still cuffed, but he managed. Morgana climbed on behind him without hesitation. 

As Kilgharrah braced his legs for flight, Morgana let out a scream. The beast had recovered from its momentary apprehension and was snapping at Merlin and Morgana’s legs. Morgana swiped at it with her sword, but when the metal touched its shadowy flesh, a black fungus crept up the blade toward the hilt, and she dropped it. 

Kilgharrah leaped from the ground. As they rose away from the scene, Merlin saw the sorcerer call the beast to heel. The spindly man watched them depart with his pet at his side, a calculating look on his face. Merlin shivered and looked away. The sorcerer would have to be dealt with at some point, but for now, Merlin was more than happy to leave him behind. He didn’t fancy seeing any more creatures like that in his lifetime, and he certainly didn’t want to see one prowling toward Camelot. 

Merlin tightened his hold on Kilgharrah and dropped his forehead against his scaly exterior. His exhaustion was quickly drowning out the adrenaline that still coursed through his veins, and if he wasn’t afraid of falling to his death, he might have let himself pass out again. As it was, he settled for closing his eyes to dull his headache. Every now and then, Merlin felt additional surges tugging his magic away, but they were smaller and less debilitating than before. He wondered if it was his distance from the beast that lessened his pain or the fact that he barely had any magic left.

The flight seemed to last mere minutes, but by the time they landed, the sun had already peaked and begun its descent. 

Kilgharrah wriggled his wings once he was free of riders like he was shaking off their human grime. Then he studied Merlin’s restraints and blew a cool gust of breath over Merlin. The cuffs and collar shattered, the silver shards drifting off in the wind. “If that is all,” Kilgharrah said, peering darkly at Morgana once again, “then I’d prefer to be in the presence of this witch no longer.”

Morgana lifted her brows but didn’t comment on his acerbic tone. Despite his obvious loathing, she still looked like she might want to start a deal with him. Merlin decided that meant it was a good idea to separate the two of them as soon as possible.

He bowed his head to the Great Dragon, a show of mutual respect. “You’ve helped more than enough, old friend.”

Kilgharrah returned the gesture, head dipping low, and took off into the skies. Merlin watched him until he was only a speck in the distance.

“So you’re a Dragonlord, too,” Morgana said once Kilgharrah was gone.

“Yes.” Merlin glanced over at her. She looked uncomfortable, shoulders tensed in a strange position, and Merlin couldn’t figure out why.

She nodded stiffly. “It suits you.”

Merlin tilted his head in askance. “Being a Dragonlord?” 

Morgana’s lips twitched into a smirk. “No. Not playing the fool.” Her expression faltered, shuttered, returning to some semblance of the way she looked when Merlin first awoke in the cell. With a pang, Merlin realized the reason for her strange behavior: their temporary truce was at its end. 

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he said.

A suffocating weariness filled Morgana’s eyes. “Doesn’t it?” She didn’t let Merlin respond, pressing on without pause, “I still want the throne, and Emrys is still my doom.”

Merlin shook his head, a sour taste in his mouth at the thought of ending things like this after being reminded of her goodness. “The future isn’t set in stone.”

Morgana’s lips twitched. “Oh, know.” Her brows arched in that regal way of hers, the effect not diminished by the dirt and blood coating her skin. “I don’t have any intention of dying at your hand.”

“Then--”

“I’ll give you a ten-second head start,” Morgana interrupted, looking a bit like a frightened animal, or maybe a dangerous predator. The depth of fear from which Morgana had suffered for so long made the two nearly indistinguishable. “And then your life is fair game.” 

Merlin sighed. “Morgana...”

Her expression hardened at the pity she must have seen in his eyes. “Ten,” she said cooly. “Nine. Eight.” 

Merlin pursed his lips. He needed to let her know he still cared for her--that there was still hope. That Morgana didn’t have to choose to be alone forever. 

“Seven.”

Merlin settled for a soft, “Take care, Morgana,” and tried to lock his memories of the past few days into a mental cell fashioned after the one they had been imprisoned in. It proved to be as impossible as he predicted.

At Merlin’s words, Morgana’s counting faltered for a second. But then she resumed, voice tighter than before, “Six. Five. Four.” 

Merlin turned on his heel and started walking. He didn’t know if he was headed toward Camelot or away from it, but Morgana had made her position clear: leaving her behind was the first step.

“Three. Two.”

Merlin didn’t look back when the counting stopped, but he could feel Morgana’s eyes on him. She didn’t attack. He didn’t expect her to. 

Merlin walked home alone, a little worse for wear, but more hopeful than he had been before. His secret--the one he had closely guarded for so long--was out and in the worst possible hands. But he had also learned a secret of his own: that there was a heart inside Morgana’s chest, and it was still beating, still warm, despite the world’s attempts to smother and freeze it--heedless of Morgana’s attempts to do the same. 

Perhaps the last High Priestess would still bring Camelot’s downfall and Emrys would still be her doom. But there was hope for Morgana, and maybe that meant there was hope for Merlin too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments are always appreciated :)
> 
> For more Merlin content or to [request a gen fic](https://gwen-cheers-me-up.tumblr.com/post/630906970496483328/ive-been-in-the-mood-to-write-some-bbc-merlin-gen), find me on Tumblr @gwen-cheers-me-up <3


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